Ah, Niece! Ah, my dear! how firmly has this wicked man attached you!
Perhaps not, Madam. But really great care should be taken by fathers and mothers, when they would have their daughters of their minds in these particulars, not to say things that shall necessitate the child, in honour and generosity, to take part with the man her friends are averse to. But, waving all this, as I have offered to renounce him forever, I see not why he should be mentioned to me, nor why I should be wished to hear anything about him.
Well, but still, my dear, there can be no harm to let Mr. Solmes tell you what Mr. Lovelace has said of you. Severely as you have treated Mr. Solmes, he is fond of attending you once more: he begs to be heard on this head.
If it be proper for me to hear it, Madam—
It is, eagerly interrupted she, very proper.
Has what he has said of me, Madam, convinced you of Mr. Lovelace’s baseness?
It has, my dear: and that you ought to abhor him for it.
Then, dear Madam, be pleased to let me hear it from your mouth: there is no need that I should see Mr. Solmes, when it will have double the weight from you. What, Madam, has the man dared to say of me?
My aunt was quite at a loss.
At last, Well, said she, I see how you are attached. I am sorry for it, Miss. For I do assure you, it will signify nothing. You must be Mrs. Solmes; and that in a very few days.
If consent of heart, and assent of voice, be necessary to a marriage, I am sure I never can, nor ever will, be married to Mr. Solmes. And what will any of my relations be answerable for, if they force my hand into his, and hold it there till the service be read; I perhaps insensible, and in fits, all the time!
What a romantic picture of a forced marriage have you drawn, Niece! Some people would say, you have given a fine description of your own obstinacy, child.
My brother and sister would: but you, Madam, distinguish, I am sure, between obstinacy and aversion.
Supposed aversion may owe its rise to real obstinacy, my dear.
I know my own heart, Madam. I wish you did.
Well, but see Mr. Solmes once more, Niece. It will oblige and make for you more than you imagine.
What should I see him for, Madam?—Is the man fond of hearing me declare my aversion to him?—Is he desirous of having me more and more incense my friends against myself?—O my cunning, my ambitious brother!
Ah, my dear! with a look of pity, as if she understood the meaning of my exclamation—But must that necessarily be the case?
It must, Madam, if they will take offence at me for declaring my steadfast detestation of Mr. Solmes, as a husband.
Mr. Solmes is to be pitied, said she. He adores you. He longs to see you once more. He loves you the better for your cruel usage of him yesterday. He is in raptures about you.
Ugly creature, thought I!—He in raptures!
What a cruel wretch must he be, said I, who can enjoy the distress to which he so largely contributes!—But I see, I see, Madam, that I am considered as an animal to be baited, to make sport for my brother and sister, and Mr. Solmes. They are all, all of them, wanton in their cruelty.—I, Madam, see the man! the man so incapable of pity!—Indeed I will not see him, if I can help it—indeed I will not.
What a construction does your lively wit put upon the admiration Mr. Solmes expresses of you!—Passionate as you were yesterday, and contemptuously as you treated him, he dotes upon you for the very severity by which he suffers. He is not so ungenerous a man as you think him: nor has he an unfeeling heart.—Let me prevail upon you, my dear, (as your father and mother expect it of you), to see him once more, and hear what he has to say to you.
How can I consent to see him again, when yesterday’s interview was interpreted by you, Madam, as well as by every other, as an encouragement to him? when I myself declared, that if I saw him a second time by my own consent, it might be so taken? and when I am determined never to encourage him?
You might spare your reflections upon me, Miss. I have no thanks either from one side or the other.
And away she flung.
Dearest Madam! said I, following her to the door—
But she would not hear me further; and her sudden breaking from me occasioned a hurry to some mean listener; as the slipping of a foot from the landing-place on the stairs discovered to me.
I had scarcely recovered myself from this attack, when up came Betty—Miss, said she, your company is desired below-stairs in your own parlour.
By whom, Betty?
How can I tell, Miss?—perhaps by your sister, perhaps by your brother—I know they won’t come upstairs to your apartment again.
Is Mr. Solmes gone, Betty?
I believe he is, Miss—Would you have him sent for back? said the bold creature.
Down I went: and to whom should I be sent for, but to my brother and Mr. Solmes! the latter standing sneaking behind the door, so that I saw him not, till I was mockingly led by the
